Intervention - extended edition
by Charity Angel
Summary: In which Sam gets accosted by an archangel, Gabriel makes breakfast, and Cas makes a move.


Sam had fallen asleep. It was the only explanation. He was back at the bunker, with his face planted in some dusty book or other, having a nightmare.

A curious eyebrow quirked in front of him. "Now, why do I get the feeling I'm not the angel that normally features in your nightmares? And if I'm not, why would I start now?"

"Because you're a vindictive prick, and my subconscious is trying to punish me for something."

Gabriel leaned back in the booth and a bowl of chocolate ice cream appeared in front of him. "I'll admit to being a bit of a prick at times, but is that any way to talk to the guy who saved you from a bunch of pagan gods _and_ my big bro?"

Sam couldn't be bothered to argue with a figment of his imagination. He had ignored Lucifer for months: he could blank Gabriel for one night/morning/whatever-the-hell-time-of-day-it-was. He picked up the coffee that was sitting on the table in front of him: it was just as good as it always was from the tiny coffee shop/diner/restaurant in the equally tiny Lebanon.

Gabriel leaned forward on his elbows, squinting at Sam as if trying to see something inside Sam. Which wasn't altogether impossible, even if it genuinely was him.

"Oh, Sammy," he breathed eventually, his eyes widening in shock. "I didn't save you, did I?"

Sam shrugged and enjoyed his coffee.

"Okay, so I'm not going to convince you I'm real. Does that mean you have to ignore me?"

Sam flinched and his mind flashed, unbidden, back to the locked ward.

"Okay," Gabriel said, toying with his dessert. "I get it. And I'm actually feeling the need to apologise on my brother's behalf."

"You gave me a way to trap him," Sam said softly, peeking up from his cup to catch Gabriel's eyes.

Gabriel didn't seem that pleased about it. "I wish I'd done more. You shouldn't have had to go through that."

Sam shrugged, focussing back on his coffee mug again. It was bad enough seeing the pity in Dean's eyes, in Bobby's, and even in Castiel's. Seeing it in Gabriel's was just too much.

"I started it. It's only fair that I had to finish it."

There was an incredulous silence as Gabriel was clearly trying to work out what to say to that.

"Lucifer started it, Sammy," he said eventually, carefully. "I know I was an ass and said it was your fault, but it wasn't: my brothers manipulated the whole thing from way before you were even born. The only thing in question was how quickly it would take for Deano to break downstairs. But you stepped up anyway, and ended things. Or, at least, postponed them indefinitely. So, why did you start talking to me?"

Sam did meet his gaze then. "Because you apologised. I couldn't imagine you doing that. So either we're both really here, or you're dream-walking me. Either way, you're alive. How?"

"First off, you're awake, kiddo. I've never really been a fan of all that dream-walking crap."

"Too stealthy for you?" Sam asked, surprising himself with his boldness.

"Hells yeah," Gabriel said with an unrepentant grin. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm more the in-your-face type."

Sam gave him a long once-over. "Nope. Hadn't noticed. And you're still alive."

"Ah, Sammy," the angel said, winking. "You can't take the 'trick' out of the Trickster. So, anyway, I've been hearing rumours. Baby brother Cassie's the man in charge, right?"

Anger flared in Sam as the truth suddenly clicked in place in his mind. "Where the hell were you?" he demanded. "Cas needed you! He had to fight a civil war against Raphael! He was desperate, and where the _hell_ were you?"

Gabriel held up both his hands. "Not exactly easy, faking your death well enough that Lucifer falls for it," he said defensively. "I was in no shape to do much of anything for a long time. I had to get a job, Sam. I had to eat and sleep and all the rest of the crap that goes with being almost human."

"You? _You_ got a job?"

"Oh, sure. You really don't watch much television, do you? I've been the face of Pepsi Max for years."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course you got a job in adverti… Pepsi Max? There's no sugar in that!"

Gabriel shrugged, a little wry smile curving his lips. "Yeah, I know. Tastes like shit, but what they paid me let me buy the real thing, and an apartment. I bought an honest-to-Dad _apartment_. And I kept the neighbourhood free from demons and leviathans. I'm guessing you boys and little Cas had something to do with that too? And releasing the Word?"

"Dean broke open the tablet, but it was Dick Roman who dug it up," Sam corrected, turning his attention to his carrot cake. "Wait, you did what? Leviathans kill angels."

"Puh-lease. I'm not your run-of-the-mill youngster angel. Okay, so I was still growing my wings in when Mikey and Luci kicked their asses into Purgatory, but I've still technically got the juice to off them. Even then, when I hardly had any."

Sam pointed his fork at Gabriel. "Do not tell Cas or Dean that. Dean's still sore over the whole thing and Cas is still moping guiltily. Okay, not just about that, but it's a biggie. If he finds out he offed the one person who could have helped him mop up that mess…"

Gabriel mimed a zipper over his mouth, which made Sam snort with laughter. "Chance would be a fine thing."

Gabriel grinned. "Oh, Sammy, Chance is a very fine thing. She's a real lady, though, more's the pity."

"I hate you, you know. I never know whether you're full of shit or not."

There was a very wry expression on the archangel's face. "What's the point of lying when the truth can be so much more interesting? Michael's the real peddler of horseshit; even old Luci is honest enough, even if he twists the truth so much it's practically unrecognisable. Anyway, enough about my screwed-up family: tell me about yours. I'm guessing you're still hanging around with your bro and mine? No lovely lady on the scene? Or are you into kinky shit? I bet you are."

"No," Sam said firmly, determined not to blush like a teenager. "No-one. There was someone for a while, but it was complicated."

"She married?"

Sam obviously gave something away in his face (or maybe his mind), because Gabriel looked pleasantly shocked.

"She _was_! You bad boy, you."

"As I said, complicated. But Dean and I have got a place now; a home base. Dean's nesting."

"You're not?"

Sam's face fell and he shook his head. "I can't. I've never had a real home before. I don't know what it's supposed to feel like."

"But you want to," Gabriel said, his head tilted in that same weird way Cas did sometimes. "You want that security. Believe me, I know how you feel."

Sam stared at the man opposite him; a being who had lived longer than Sam could possibly imagine; someone who had run away from his home to escape his overbearing, disagreeable relatives, just like Sam had all those years ago. Just like he had tried to do again when Dean and Cas were trapped in Purgatory, except that the memory of Dean was with him every step of the way, every time he drove the car, every time he closed his eyes to sleep.

"Come back with me," Sam said suddenly. "Cas is staying right now, and Dean'll want breakfast soon."

"Dean'll stake me first chance he gets."

"Like that would actually hurt you."

Gabriel winked. "Good point. Yeah, why not? It'd be nice to catch up with the bros. Make sure Cassie's on the right track. I tell you, though: one whiff of his big baby blues going all wide and begging me to go back to Heaven and I'm right out of there."

"Fair enough. But please say it like that, in front of Dean?"

.oOo.

Castiel had run through the bunker to find them, his cheek smudged with motor oil and his eyes wide. "Sam, I… Gabriel?!"

"In the flesh, little brother," Gabriel said, spreading his arms to display himself. "Sammy here invited me back to hang with you guys."

Dean appeared behind Cas, angel blade in his grimy hand. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"I ran into him at the diner. He volunteered to provide breakfast," Sam said with a shrug, purposefully hefting the paper bag full of groceries. "Who was I to say no to that?"

Dean eyeballed him. "Anyone with any common sense would have," he growled.

"Come on, Deano, don't be like that," Gabriel said winningly. "I wanted to hang out with my little brother and his friends. What's so wrong about that?"

Dean looked completely incredulous, but didn't relax any on his death grip on the blade. "How about that you're supposed to be dead? Or how many times you killed me to torture Sam? Or that you made us watch porn of you?"

"Oh, that? Sammy tells me you nailed Suzy a couple of years ago. She's quite something, isn't she?"

Sam struggled to keep his face straight as Dean's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, with no sound emerging. Keeping the straight face was somewhat easier when Sam looked sideways slightly to Cas, who had adopted that kicked puppy look of his. And Dean had seen it and was looking almost guilty.

And Gabriel had clearly seen it too, his face going almost expressionless for a moment. Then: "Come on, Sasquatch – I promised breakfast, so why don't you point me in the direction of the kitchen?"

"Sure," Sam said readily, glad for the change in subject. "Just, give the grease monkeys time to clean up, yeah?"

He took Gabriel's elbow and steered him around their brothers and down into the bowels of the bunker. They were halfway to the kitchen before Gabriel let out the groan he had been holding in.

"For the love of Dad, Sam, how have you not killed them yet?"

Sam shrugged. "Cas isn't here that often?"

"But it's been six years! How have they not boinked yet?"

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. "Because Dean is as straight as an arrow and does stupid things like screw porn stars, Cas fucked up big time and won't let himself have an ounce of happiness because of it, and they're both complete and utter _idiots_ who don't talk to each other."

They passed through the door to the kitchen, and Gabriel whistled appreciatively. "Oh, hell yeah, this is going to work. And they need help, before they drive you crazy. Again. It would be an act of kindness, really."

Sam mumbled agreement and suddenly found himself fetching cooking implements, stirring eggs and flipping bacon and pancakes under strict instruction. He barely even paused to consider the oddity of Gabriel being able to cook, using Dean's lovingly cared for cooking equipment like a pro. When he thought about it later, he would be mildly upset that a creature that hadn't even need to eat for the majority of his existence could cook like that while Sam was a danger to himself and others in the kitchen, and wasn't even allowed to set foot into Dean's kitchen without supervision.

"Gabriel? How did you survive?"

Gabriel paused in his inspection of the eggs. "Got lucky," he admitted. "Lucifer fell for a double-bluff. I had to let him think he'd killed me."

"He did," Sam said quietly. "He showed me what happened, to persuade me that fighting him was useless. If someone as strong as you couldn't defeat him…"

"But I did," Gabriel said, catching Sam's eyes and holding them. "We both did. We've both come out the other side. Okay, so we're not exactly what you'd call whole any more, but we're doing okay, aren't we?"

Sam nodded.

"So, Lucifer's stuck in prison and we're walking free and healthy. Mostly in my case, but still healthy. I happily undiscovered fibre a few months back, so I'm counting myself in the 'healthy' bracket."

Sam decided he didn't want to know exactly what Gabriel meant by that. He had a pretty good idea, and he didn't want to follow the thought any further than why Gabriel had needed to discover fibre in the first place.

"Anyways, our brothers. Got any ideas?"

Sam shrugged and flipped over a blueberry pancake without prompting. "We need to be gentle," he said. "Dean's too stubborn to react to anything direct."

"And he's too bull-headed to see anything subtle," Gabriel pointed out. "Maybe I should work on Castiel instead?"

"He just needs a nudge in the right direction, as far as I can tell," Sam agreed. "He knows how he feels about Dean; he just needs to realise that Dean feels the same way about him. The whole 'sex with other women' thing isn't helping either of them."

"Yeah, noticed that," Gabriel said, somewhat sheepishly. "I really put my foot in my big mouth there, didn't I? I didn't realise how bad Cassie was mooning over Deano until it was too late. And, speaking of baby bro, what in the name of all that is holy happened to him? His grace…"

Gabriel trailed off, and it wasn't much of a leap for Sam to realise that the archangel very purposefully wasn't saying what he had seen in Cas in case Sam didn't know himself.

"It's not his," Sam said, and the twisted look of relief on Gabriel's face confirmed Sam's supposition. "Yeah, I know. It's a mess, and we don't know how to fix it. And you don't either, do you?"

Gabriel shook his head, not even daring to meet Sam's questioning gaze. "It was never supposed to happen," he said. "It's unnatural. I bet Cassie's told you that disobedience is the worst crime we can commit?" Sam nodded in agreement, and he continued: "It's not. It might be the most harshly punished, but the most heinous is taking another angel's grace. There's a self-fulfilling punishment in what Castiel has done to himself."

Sam grabbed Gabriel's arm, forcing him to look at the human. "It wasn't his fault," Sam said forcefully. "Metatron stole his to do the spell that evicted the angels from Heaven; Cas was trying to fight back, to make things right."

"Bet he blamed himself."

Sam snorted humourlessly. "Of course he did."

"He is so a Winchester. You're all so self-sacrificing, with absolutely zero self-esteem."

Sam opened his mouth to object, but Dean and Cas chose that moment to pile into the kitchen. Dean was laughing, Cas had that tiny smile that was reserved for Dean, and they were totally wrapped up with each other, until Gabriel cleared his throat.

"Breakfast?" The wide sweep of his arm took in the kitchen table, laden with fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, coffee and OJ. Sam was pretty sure he spied a couple of bottles of syrup too (noting that the maple syrup was right down the other end of the table, as far away from Gabriel as possible).

.oOo.

The awkwardness of breakfast was mitigated by Dean enjoying the food in front of him and therefore keeping quiet. Even Castiel indulged himself in a few pancakes and a couple of rashers of bacon. This, more than anything else, seemed to be an indicator of Cas' declining health: Sam vividly recalled conversations about PB&J and how disgusting Cas found eating when he was all angelled up. Which then made Sam wonder about Gabriel and his fixation on sweet things: had he learned to eat in order to fit in with the pagans? Or had he just stumbled upon sugar at some point and gotten addicted? That said, he very interestingly wasn't touching the maple syrup; instead smothering his own plate in disgustingly artificial strawberry syrup.

The dishes were done in a snap of Gabriel's fingers, and he dragged Sam out on the promised tour. Sam took him around the garage, archives (including the dungeon) and ended up in the library, where Gabriel gave an appreciative whistle at the extensive collection.

"These guys really knew their shit," he said. "I ran into some of them back in the Victorian days. Bit stuffy, but man did they know their pagan folklore. It was them came up with the stake thing, you know."

Sam shot him a curious look. "What?"

"Oh yeah." Gabriel bounced on his toes, grinning. "I _might_ have let one of them stake me, just to get them off my back. Let them believe I was dead – you know how that goes – and they passed the info on, ending up with you guys. It's like one big circle."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I might stake you myself if you start singing."

Gabriel's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Me? Don't know what you mean. Now, let's get down to business: Castiel."

Sam flopped down on the leather sofa. "Go gently on him. He's had a rough time for… well, pretty much since we met him, actually. Maybe your brothers and sisters have a point – maybe we're not good for him."

Gabriel jumped onto the sofa beside him, stretching out and resting his feet on Sam's lap, a playful challenge in his eyes. "That's a pile of horse-shit," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "You and Dean just gave him a boot up the ass: Castiel's always had that little spark in him. I was hoping it would be him that got assigned to looking after you. And look at him: he's essentially staged a political coup, overthrown a pair of dictators and installed democracy. In Heaven. That's immense: almost makes me want to go and see it for myself."

"You sound proud of him."

"What, I'm not allowed to be proud of my baby brother?"

"That's the third time you've called him that, instead of 'little brother'" Sam observed. "Explain."

Gabriel gave him an odd look. "It's exactly what it sounds like: Castiel's one of the youngest batch of angels, made just before your fishy ancestors crawled out the ocean. And, as far as I can tell, he's the last one of his batch, too. So he's my baby bro."

Sam just stared for a while, then: "Huh. I always figured he had some kind of middle-child syndrome going on."

Gabriel snorted. "Nah. If any of us have got that, it's me."

Sam laughed at him. "Oh, yeah right! You're the archetypal bratty youngest kid who lived in his big brothers' shadows."

Gabriel opened his mouth to object, but stopped himself and shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably right. Oh, hey Cassie! We're in the library."

Sam smiled and shook his head as Castiel's measured footsteps started to echo down the hall. "Sometimes I forget how good your hearing is. I'll leave you two to it."

He lifted Gabriel's feet off him and unfolded his long limbs. He passed Cas in the doorway, clapping a gentle, reassuring hand to the angel's shoulder. He didn't go far, though: he waited just beyond the door, telling himself it was in case Dean showed and needed distracting while Cas and Gabriel were talking.

.oOo.

"Cas, sit down. We need to talk."

Castiel tilted his head, that familiar puzzled expression sliding into place even as he obeyed, sitting in the spot Sam had vacated on the sofa. "What do you wish to discuss, Gabriel?"

"Well, when two people love each other very much..."

Castiel stood again abruptly, scowling. "Do not treat me like a child, Gabriel. I have watched humanity for long enough."

Gabriel looked up at his brother, his grin slipping. "Come on, Cassie! How long have you and Dean been dancing around each other? Have you even kissed him yet?"

Cas glanced away, his ears flushing. "Not him, no."

Gabriel perked up and tugged on Castiel's hand, trying to lure him back down. "You mean you've been making out with someone else? No wonder the poor kid's so confused."

Cas sighed and sat back down. "She was a reaper intent on killing me, and it is not relevant."

Gabriel paused, actually stilling and resembling an angel for once. "Okay," he said eventually, holding up a finger, "you need to tell me that story later, because I'm pretty sure it is 'relevant'. But for now, you're miserable, he's miserable. Go, make each other happy. Kiss him until he can't remember how to breathe; undress him so slowly he can only think your name; then fuck him until he screams it."

"Gabriel! I thought we were going for subtle!" Sam stuck his head round the open doorway to the library, where he had been slouched and pretending not to listen while he 'kept an eye out for Dean'.

Gabriel grinned unrepentantly at Sam. "You picked the wrong person for 'subtle', Samsquatch. Now, Cas, go get him!"

"Gabriel, I…"

Gabriel's gaze returned to his brother. "Go, sweep Dean off his feet. I'll take Sam somewhere so you won't be disturbed."

"Please, Cas," Sam butted in. "You two deserve a chance, and Dean's never going to make a move because he doesn't think he deserves you. Do it for his sake."

.oOo.

Gabriel. Freaking Gabriel, loose in the bunker. What the hell? Dean wasn't even sure that he wanted to know how Gabriel had survived – he was more worried about the fact that Sam was following him like a lost puppy, and even Cas seemed to be panting after him. Cas he kind of got in a way: the guy was a grade A douche, but he was Cas' big brother. After spending so long trying to fill the archangels' shoes, it would make sense that Cas would jump at the chance of having the one who didn't want to end the world back. Admittedly, the thought of Gabriel in charge upstairs was vaguely terrifying, but it was better than what had been going on for the last few years. At least with an archangel to look up to, the angels would stop fighting each other and causing problems on Earth. And they didn't have the mojo to pull off Gabriel's party tricks so it wasn't like he would be training them all to be tricksters in his stead.

As it turned out, it shouldn't have been Gabriel's potential antics in Heaven that he should have been worried about. But it never even occurred to Dean that he ought to be more worried about what the archangel was up to under his own roof.

Not until Cas appeared, a determined look on his face. It was an expression that Dean had seen many times when they were out hunting, or when they were stuck in Purgatory, but never before in the comfort and safety of the bunker (except when demon-him had been stalking Sammy, anyway).

Cas didn't say a word and Dean didn't manage to get one out before Cas grabbed his shirt and kissed him. Dean's mind short-circuited as he was suddenly living the very thing he had been fantasising about for years and never dreamed he could have.

Cas looked vaguely terrified as he pulled away, as if he fully expected that Dean would do something stupid like laugh it off, or send him back out into the cold. Which, if he was honest, was exactly something he would do. And he had done both to Cas at least once. In fact, kicking Cas out on Gadreel's order was one of the lowest moments of Dean's life; something he had never quite forgiven himself for even though Cas had been very understanding about the whole thing.

Dean was truly terrible at talking about how he felt. Even with Sam, it was always more what they didn't say than what they did. With Cas, it could never be like that because Cas sucked at reading between the lines. So there was only really one thing he could do if he wanted to have what Cas was so freely offering. And boy did he want it: he had wanted it for a long time now. His life wasn't complete without his angel: there was a void whenever Cas was gone. And when he left himself think about the fact that Cas was dying... those were the days when he drank himself into unconsciousness.

But, realistically, time with Cas was limited. And no matter how little he might believe that he wasn't worthy of the angel's affection, Dean couldn't bring himself to waste that precious time, to not give a dying being what he wanted.

He reached out and grabbed Cas, pulling him back, pressing their lips together. It started out as unrefined as one would expect from its somewhat violent beginning, but softened to something tender as Cas climbed into his lap and cradled his head in strong hands; elegant fingers working their way into his hair with a sense of gentle desperation.

Cas was much more confident than Dean had expected: his one night with April the angelicidal reaper had clearly been instructive as he swept his tongue over Dean's lips, nibbling gently and sending sparks of pleasure through Dean.

Dean pulled himself away reluctantly, his breath coming harder than he realised.

"Cas," he gasped. "Do… Are you…"

Cas' eyes were shining. "Of course I am sure," he said. "I have been certain about what I want for a long time. Why do you think I have not returned to Heaven?"

Dean couldn't think of an answer to that. Not least because the sneaky little angel in his lap was unbuttoning his shirt. Cas' long fingers stroked down his chest, trailing little sparks of grace that coursed through Dean and seemed to coalesce, nice and warm, in his belly. He reached for Cas' own button-down, desperate to feel the warm flesh beneath.

Those clever, clever hands made swift work of the button and fly of his jeans and reached into his shorts, bringing life to his dick, stroking him to hardness and making Dean fumble. He swore that just by having grace, even if he wasn't using it, Cas was cheating. Every touch from him had always carried that little electric tingle, but to have those hands on him purposefully, all charged up…

"Wait." He gently held Cas' wrists and pulled his hands away, biting his lip to stifle his moan of disappointment. "Cas, you… you don't have to do this for me. I know you don't… Can you even feel enough for this?"

Cas gave him a calculating look; impressive, given their states of undress, and that the angel had had his hands down Dean's pants moments ago.

"I trust you are questioning whether or not I am capable of perceiving the sensations required to enjoy sex, rather than whether or not I love you?"

Shit, Dean hadn't even thought of it that way: all he had been worrying about was that, on the day they had met in the flesh, Dean had both shot and stabbed Cas and he hadn't even flinched. He didn't process touch and pain the same way as a human. But, now that the question had been raised, Dean knew that Cas was different with his grace; that he didn't experience emotion the same way. He was more distant with his grace, less… well, less human. But Cas had had his grace and a full connection to Heaven when he had chosen to Fall. He had his grace when he came to Dean, begging for help after he had screwed everything up so badly. He had grace when he chose Dean over a whole angel army. Grace or not, he always chose Dean in the end, so no, Dean wasn't questioning that.

Cas' expression softened, and Dean wondered if his sneaky angel had been reading his mind, even though he had promised not to. Dean suddenly found that he didn't care.

"I will be yours until I cease to exist," Cas vowed, "whether that is when my grace burns out, or the end of time itself. And I am no longer ignorant of the ways of the flesh. I have been mortal three times now: my body belongs to me, and I to it."

He turned his hand gently, and placed Dean's hand directly on his crotch. "Perhaps this will reassure you of my capability to perform?"

Hell, those slacks hid a lot: Cas' cock was thick and hard under his palm and, as he stroked through the thin fabric, Cas let out a groan and tipped his head back, exposing his throat. Dean immediately attacked the fluttering pulse, sucking and biting and absolutely relishing the feel of Cas writhing above him, losing himself in the sensation.

Dean ripped the last few buttons in his haste to undress Cas, his hands moving over the smooth lines of Cas' chest as he shoved the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. Cas seemed to get the idea and pulled his wrists through the cuffs, allowing the shirt to fall to the floor behind him.

Dean tried his best not to show any hesitation as he stroked over the exposed skin, his palms travelling over toned pecs rather than full breasts. It wasn't that Cas was a guy, just that Dean's hands were used to women, had only ever touched women before. Dean wasn't stupid: he knew that his man-crush on Doctor Sexy wasn't the kind of thing that happened to a straight guy, but he had never entertained thoughts of actually sleeping with the guy. Especially not since… Nope. Not thinking about Cas' douchebag big brother in the middle of sex.

But whether he was sure about he was doing or not, he was clearly doing it right: Cas was clearly willing and eager, and as Dean fumbled to undo his slacks, he was letting out the most delicious groans, gyrating against Dean's hands. As their eyes locked, Cas' were pure white, shining with his grace. Behind him, Dean could see the shadows of his tattered, broken wings.

.oOo.

Sam's head shot up as every bulb in the library blew, followed immediately by a peal of laughter from Gabriel.

"What the hell?"

A gently glowing ball of light appeared above their heads.

"Congrats, Sammy," Gabriel announced gleefully, "you've just witnessed what happens when an angel comes."


End file.
